


Fear Will Not Rule Us

by heartswells



Series: In Sickness and In Health [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bulimia, Communication, Discussions on (Hypothetical) Relapse, Eating Disorder Recovery, Eating Disorders, Honesty, M/M, Mental Illness, Recovered Characters, Recovery, Transparency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-12 05:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartswells/pseuds/heartswells
Summary: [no triggering details or descriptions of behaviors are included; tyson is recovered.]“Should I worry about you relapsing?”Tyson opened his mouth to snap and then shut it; there was a sincerity in Gabe’s eyes that extinguished his anger. Gabe had earned this conversation through the labor of dedication, love, and loyalty. When Tyson had committed to Gabe, he had committed to honesty and transparency, and thus he owed this to him. If he really wanted to love Gabe, then he would grant him this, because what Gabe was really asking was: will you allow me to love you fully for all that you are?





	Fear Will Not Rule Us

Gabe and Tyson were curled together in a nest of plush, snuggly blankets; fresh from the dryer, the cloth radiated warmth and kept the autumn chill from seeping into their bones. Tyson had chosen a new fabric softener, and its lavender perfume mingled in a sweet medley with the pumpkin spice candle flickering on their dresser. Classic horror films flashed on the television screen as the hands of the wall clock edged near two a.m., and Gabe could only thank the sugar-rush from their shared bag of peanut butter cups for keeping him awake.

  


Gabe had lost interest in the movies a few sequels ago, instead enraptured by the way Tyson danced through emotions with each scene. He was so expressive, so beautiful, and passionate that it overwhelmed Gabe and filled him with a fondness so intense that it mimicked pain. He wondered how he had ever managed to endure a life without the joy Tyson brought him. He wondered how he had ever survived such dullness, how he had ever coped with a life that lacked the vibrancy and richness that Tyson gifted him. 

  


He wondered what it would be like to lose him.

  


“Tyson, can I ask something?” Tyson startled, having thought Gabe had fallen asleep, and then giggled sheepishly at his own silliness. 

  


“Of course,” he answered earnestly. Gabe hesitated though; he was not so sure that Tyson would be so open once he heard the question.

  


“Should I worry about you relapsing?” 

  


Tyson stilled and grimaced. It was not the question he had been anticipating, and it was certainly not one he had ever desired to hear. Irritation flared inside him. Would no one ever allow him to move forward? Would this be his association for the rest of his life? Was his credibility irreparably tainted, never to be trusted again? Would he forever be doubted, accused, and interrogated?

  


Gabe struggled to remain resolute as he watched Tyson, resisting the instinctive urge to apologize and drop the subject to subvert conflict. He breathed through it and committed to his decision. He could not cope with not knowing any longer. 

  


When Tyson had first revealed he had a history of bulimia, Gabe hadn’t known what to say, and he’d been faced with the hideous depth of his own ignorance. Wanting to ensure that he would be able to connect with Tyson in the future, he had decided to research all that he could independently. He had not known to anticipate the hopelessness he found. A brutally selfish part of him regretted it and wished he could still view Tyson without so many dimensions of pain and complexity. He wished he could still view him as unrealistically simple, a man of unwavering confidence and love. Not as someone who had hoped for his own death.

  


Textbooks, studies, publications, forums, and memoirs all collided together to reveal nothing but horror. Gabe, embarrassed as he was to admit it, had truly known nothing, and he had poured over sources seeking insight to Tyson’s life. In the end, it had done nothing but leave him heartbroken and nauseated. Nightmares consumed him. Days were spent imagining Tyson at twelve, hopeless and dying, and wondering _ could it happen again_? Every source shrieked _ yes, beware_! Stories of recovery were fleeting. Relapse seemed to be presented as the accepted, inevitable end, and Gabe needed to know if that was the truth—needed to know that it _ wasn’t_.

  


Tyson opened his mouth to snap and then shut it; there was a sincerity in Gabe’s eyes that extinguished his anger. Gabe had earned this conversation through the labor of dedication, love, and loyalty. When Tyson had committed to Gabe, he had committed to honesty and transparency, and thus he owed this to him. If he really wanted to love Gabe, then he would grant him this, because what Gabe was really asking was: will you allow me to love you fully for all that you are? Do you trust me to treat you fairly, and are you willing to make the sacrifices genuine connection require, as I will for you?

  


There was, however, one problem: Tyson was not actually sure of the answer. The nature of eating disorders is not identical to the nature of a person’s moral values. The nature of eating disorders is hostility, defensiveness, and deceit. Could Tyson ever really make such a promise with sincerity? Currently, he struggled to be open with Gabe about what was done and overcome. The mere idea of confessing that he was struggling in the present was enormous. And in answering the question was he implying that he anticipated a relapse? Should he refuse it on principle so as to not even entertain the idea? It all amounted to too much.

  


“I don’t know,” he admitted. 

  


“I think I might have asked the wrong question,” Gabe said. “I guess what I really want to know is this: if you relapsed, would you tell me? Would you be open with me if you were struggling? I just wonder sometimes, what if you were, and I just didn’t notice? I worry that I wouldn’t. I worry that I’d lose you because of it.”

  


Tyson ached with Gabe’s confession. It was an immense burden for both of them to bear. 

  


“Well, I guess you never know what you’re going to do for sure,” Tyson began slowly, and Gabe knew enough to understand that. “I don’t really like to imagine myself getting back to that point. I don’t want to entertain the idea. It’s scary, but that doesn’t mean it's impossible.”

  


“But there’s this thing, uh, we call it _ rigorous honesty _ in recovery. Kind of like, the only way to recover is to be vigilant and completely honest. Eating disorders live on shame, and when they’re exposed to the light, they can’t exist anymore. That honesty is what allowed me to get to where I am, the ability to immediately be open with the people around me. My recovery was dependent on my ability to immediately say _ I need help _ and then accept it.”

  


Tyson ached with the memories of recovery’s agony, with the days spent reopening scars and dissecting tauma in lonely offices and sterile hospitals. He shivered with the visceral misery of isolation, and he burned with the phantom pains of a vulnerability so intense that he had felt stripped of his humanity. To recover meant to forsake the methods through which protection has been found, choosing instead to reopen wounds and risk infection. And though it had been years, fully-healed scars still often sting and itch. 

  
  


“I think this version of me is healthy enough and committed enough to be able to do the right thing if I were to struggle again. I’ve learned that the way to healing is to reach out, and I don’t think it would be easy, but I want to say that I would tell you, Gabe. It’s hard, but I think I would—or I’m deciding now that I would. Because you’re part of my support system, the heart of it, honestly. I don’t know if you would be the first person I would tell. I don’t know anything for sure, and…” Tyson hesitated and averted his gaze from Gabe.

  


“I’d be scared to,” he admitted quietly, fearing Gabe’s reaction. It stung, but Gabe was wise enough and selfless enough to understand that it was more complicated than trust, a projection of insecurity and a representation of frailty instead. 

  


“But I’ve learned that fear can not control me. Recovery is about learning to be okay with being afraid. It was everyday I’m going to wake up and do what I fear most. And while I do it, I’m going to be afraid that it’s not worth it or that I’m not even capable of it at all, and I’ll fail. But here I am Gabe, against all odds.” Tyson’s tone turned bitter at the end, but Gabe didn’t quite understand why.

  


“That seems like something to be proud of to me,” he said. Tyson glanced up in surprise which was not to discredit Gabe. Rather, it was that it can be very difficult to be proud of the ability to do things that the average person does daily with no problem. When the thought is still a bitter _ I should have never had this disorder in the first place_, it is near impossible to be proud.

  


“Yeah, I guess,” Tyson mumbled. Gabe remained silent, patiently hoping Tyson would expand, but Tyson drifted, lost in old memories.

  


“Thank you for answering. I know that wasn’t easy,” Gabe said after a few minutes of silence, accepting that Tyson had said all that he was willing to for the night.

  


“Thank you for being willing to ask. I know I don’t make it easy to do.” Tyson did not underestimate the bravery required to confront him. Gabe’s willingness to risk retaliation was not to be taken lightly. It was special, borne of love in its purest form.

  


“We’re both learning, and I can accept that,” Gabe answered. 

  


“Trust the process,” Tyson echoed.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> would anyone be interested if I wrote one of these with Tyson talking to EJ? I think it'd be an interesting dynamic for discussion. I doubt EJ would be so afraid to push boundaries. Or maybe Sam/EJ. I do want to write about Tyson struggling at some point too. as always, comments mean the world.


End file.
